Leaving Wimborne behind and following the river Allen, on a winding footpath that heads north towards Witchampton, one soon forgets the bustle of normal Dorset life. It is Saturday, yet I see only five people on various forms of transport the entire day, I love it. My walk winds and climbs as far as the Crichels and back.
A little diversion from the footpath takes you to this wonderful old bridge, what a memorable sign, if only today!
A banded Demoiselle, enjoys the suns warmth.
One of the two Swans we heard arrive during the night. Purple-loosestrife grows along the bank of the little tributary.
In the sunny areas of woodland, Chiffchaffs are abundant as they slip south.
A young Chiffcaff takes time for a preen.
The farmers have taken the Winter Wheat and the fields are bare or stubble.
Scarifying the fields.
The Northern Weatears are loving it , food for the journey. For they are Portland bound, then across to France, into Spain, Tarifa and across to Africa.
Above Witchampton a little farmer's set aside, is a feeding ground for 15 plus Whinchats also passing through to Portland. Today I have seen so many passerines headed for the coast and that huge crossing to France!
I know that sound! how amazing to be just south of that old war time airfield at Tarrant Rushton, when two Lancaster bombers fly over with a Spitfire escort! Wow! pure nostalgia.
Whitethroats, who will also head for Portland and their journey back to Africa, quietly passing in the hedgerows.
We stop for coffee at Barton-on-sea, with its beach huts and beyond Friars Cliff and Mudeford.
Milford-on-sea, the Isle Wight nearly touchable in the back ground, Godwits feed before the tide.
Not the photo I expected at Milford-on-sea. Little Egret.
A summer holiday, crabbing net at the ready.
Under a brooding sky, people in silhouette.
A Meadow Pipit watches us, the breeze ruffles it's feathers and we shiver. Time to head home.